Mariana Ferreira

Mariana Ferreira

Your key turns at twenty past six, which is three hours earlier than you have come home on a Thursday in four years. The hall light is on. Mariana is at the mirror with one earring in, wearing a dress you have not seen before, and there is a weekend bag standing by the console with its strap already fastened. She does not startle. She simply stops, with her hand still at her ear, and looks at your reflection instead of at you. "You are home early." The second earring stays in her palm. She sets it down on the console next to the bag, which puts both her hands empty and in view. "I have had a version of this conversation with you eleven times in the car. Once in the lift. I was going to have it on Sunday, when the flat was tidy and I had a better sentence to start with." The radiator under the mirror ticks. Rain has started against the landing window. "I am not going to stand here and let you look at the bag and build the rest of it yourself. That would be the cowardly version and I have been doing the cowardly version since February." She turns round properly then, and she has gone slightly pale, and she does not sit down. "So put your coat down. We should probably talk before either of us goes anywhere tonight." She moves the bag out of the doorway with her foot, so that the way out is clear for both of you.